Good Enough
by bellapls
Summary: Shot in the head and left for dead, Jacqueline Delacroix is on a mission to find out who she is and where she came from. I suck at summaries this is a F!Courier x Ringo story. Rated M for a reason


**AN: **This is my first story that i've ever published on ff, usually I just write them for me or my friends or what have you

I don't have a beta, so all grammar and spelling mistakes are my own

ENJOY

-OoO-

Cognition was slow, painful even. She couldn't understand why everything in her body _hurt _and when she tried focusing on the pain to figure out its source it became unbearable, and she slipped back into unconsciousness.

Her memories, or at least she assumed they were her memories, played in continuous cruel cycles. She dreamt she was back with her family, her kind but overbearing parents. Her stern older brother and his disapproving glance when she told him she was signing on with the Crimson Caravan, her sweet little sisters who were just too pure for this fucked up world. She saw all of this without actually seeing, she could remember having a family, but not what they looked like, she remembered her old job, but not its name. She couldn't even remember _her _name. It was as if she was replaying an old holo of somebody else's life.

She tried reaching for something more recent, a voice, an action, _anything _other than the ghosts of people she couldn't remember.

And suddenly she was staring into the barrel of a 9mm, she could vaguely remember being terrified but it all seemed like a bad dream. She was bound at the wrists and ankles and shivering in the cold black night, the lights of New Vegas a garish light in the background. A cold sneer from a man who was too clean to be from the wastes, his cocky voice, _"You've made your last delivery kid. Sorry you got twisted up in this scene. From where you're kneeling this must seem like an eighteen carat run of bad luck." _She remembered a grave - _her grave _- that they had dug for her. She remembered hoping that someone would show up and stop this cruel joke.

The too clean man smiling down at her, tilting his head to the side and pulling the trigger.

"_Truth is, the game was rigged from the start._"

She dreamt of a man who looked at her with such love in his eyes that she could barely stand to look at him.

She heard the gunshot, she was falling.

She heard the gunshot, Jacqueline was falling.

-OoO-

She stood over her grave, staring down at her shaking hands. She lifted her hand up to her temple, ghosting her fingers over the jagged scar tissue there. Doc Mitchell said she was lucky that she had turned her head when the man in the checkered coat shot her. If she hadn't she'd have a bullet in her brain now instead of shrapnel embedded in her skull. The sun scorched the air above her, the heat beating down on her exposed neck and back. It was awfully nice of Doc Mitchell to give her his wife's old vault suit, but it had stretched uncomfortably across her chest so she'd had to unzip it down to the waist and just deal with the fact that until she found something better she'd have to wander around in half a vault suit and her undershirt.

She touched the weathered 10mm holstered at her hip. She didn't like guns, that was something that apparently wouldn't be forgotten, even with a bullet to the brain. It was ironic really, she could remember how guns had always made her antsy, but she couldn't remember her own name or where she came from. She could barely remember what she was doing before she was shot. It kept coming back to her in flashes; a platinum chip, New Vegas, stopping in Goodsprings to rest on the last leg of her journey. She clenched her eyes shut and massaged her temples gingerly. It was entirely hopeless to believe that she would just magically remember everything at once. She wasn't _that _naive.

She glanced over at the forlorn gas station in the distance, Trudy had said that a trader named Ringo was hiding out here from the Powder Gangers. She hadn't wanted to help when she saw the argument between the older woman and Joe Cobb, but when she said the traders name she felt a stirring in the pit of her stomach, like butterflies. She had a feeling she should know this man but his name rang hollow in her head. She readily agreed to help him after she had taken care of some business in town. Maybe she could convince Sunny Smiles to come with her to meet this man, she didn't want to go meet a man she potentially might know without some backup. She crossed her arms and began the slow trek down the hill back to Goodsprings silently.

When she pushed the door open to the old Prospector Saloon she scanned the bar area for Cheyenne, knowing she wouldn't be too far away from Sunny. She spotted her laying under one of the corner booths, and as she predicted, Sunny was sitting on the tabletop flipping through an old war comic while Trudy gave her an exasperated look. She walked over to her and hopped up onto the table with her, ignoring another dirty look shot at her.

She nudged Sunny with her shoulder and nodded her head towards the comic. "Whatcha reading?" she murmered, swinging her legs slowly back and forth, taking care not to brain Cheyenne with her boots.

Sunny lifted her eyes for a moment to look at her for a moment before resuming reading the comic. "Grognak the Barbarian, it's a silly kids comic but it's all we really have to read here that isn't an instruction manual, and i've already read through all of those."

"My brother used to read these before he went to basic, we used to sit up at night when we were kids and dream about the adventures we'd have, he'd be the fearless Grognak while i'd end up being the mysterious La Fantoma." She smiled and ran her thumb over one of the panels.

Sunny set the comic on her lap and looked at the Courier through the corner of her eye. "You remember your childhood then?" she murmered.

The Courier clenched her eyes shut, a pained look coming across her face, "It's.. complicated. It's like i'm watching an old movie and trying to live vicariously through it. I can remember I had a family, parents, a brother, two sisters. But I can't remember their names or faces. I can't remember if they cared about me or cared if I left. I don't even know if they are alive or dead." she sighed and scrubbed her face with the palms of her hands "It's exhausting to try and think about my past. I just end up with a headache instead of any real results."

She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed again, it was fast becoming her constant state. She tilted her head towards the younger woman and smiled tightly, "It's alright though, hard to miss something you don't remember. I came here with a purpose though, not to rehash old memories. Do you remember me talking to Trudy about that trader holed up in the gas station?"

Sunny nodded and set the comic behind her on the table. "Yeah what of him? You decided to help him out with the Powder Gangers?". She nodded and pulled her tattered 10mm from its holster and gave it a hard stare "Yeah, I have. But I don't want to go there on my own in case he's armed or dangerous, I won't be able to defend myself with this useless thing." she shoved the gun in her holster forcibly and snorted. "I was wondering if you'd mind following up there with me? He seems to know and trust you people. I'm just a stranger to him and he might think that i'm not worth the effort it takes to trust me."

The younger woman laughed softly and nodded, "Yeah sure, i'll head up there with you. He's really not a bad guy, really nice and polite, pretty cute too if you're into the tall, dark and handsome kind of thing."

The courier laughed at that and shook her head "I wouldn't even know, in case you've forgotten my brain's been scrambled." They both laughed at that and as a pair, hopped down from the table and headed towards the front door, Cheyenne trailing silently behind them.

-OoO-

It was about halfway to the gas station that Sunny spoke up, albeit a bit nervously. "So you mind if I ask you some stuff? Not to be nosy, but just because i'm curious."

The courier shrugged non-committedly. "Sure, if you don't mind me being vague on any answers I can give you."

Sunny nodded and cleared her throat, "So where do you think you come from? You're definitely not from around anywhere in Vegas."

She perched one hand on her hip and tapped her lip with her index finger, appearing deep in thought. "I don't know, my gut is saying i'm from out west. Maybe California? It would certainly explain how I got into the courier business if I was."

"How old are you?"

"28, I remember that. I even remember when my birthday is, October 28th. It seems like common sense stuff, my age, my sex, what day it is, didn't get fried with the rest of my memory. More complex stuff like my name, where I come from, if I'm married or not, seems to elude me." she pointed the the front door of the gas station and nodded for Sunny to keep close to her. "Here we are, since he knows you i'll have you go in first and i'll follow behind you with Cheyenne."

Sunny nodded and traipsed up to the door, knocking on it softly before calling out "Ringo? Ringo it's me, Sunny. I have a friend here who is willing to help you with the Joe Cobb situation, can we come in?"

She heard a muffled '_yeah come on in_' from behind the door and nodded at the courier before pushing the door open, scanning the area for where Ringo was before waving her hand for her companion to come in.

"You don't have to do this you know Sunny. I'm sure I can manage on my own, you people have done enough for me." a deep masculin voice said from the opposite side of the front counter.

"Be that as it may, this nice woman has kindly offered her services to you and I think you should hear her out before you make a decision."

A loud scuffling sound reached the couriers ears as she saw the man, Ringo, stand up from a corner of the small shop. She tilted her head and studied him closely. He was handome, she thought, with a smooth complexion, tan from running around in the harsh sunlight, he had a strong jaw, which was currently clenched as he stared Sunny down. He hadn't seemed to notice her yet, so she stepped forward, resting a hand on Sunny's shoulder and putting on what she hoped was a friendly smile.

"You must be the trader i've heard so much about." she drawled.

His eyes snapped to hers and the color slowly leeched from his face, she could see him shaking as he rushed forward and cupped her face in his large hands. She stiffened and rested her hands on his wrists, ready to push down on his pressure points if he meant her any harm. He tilted her face from one side to the other, scanning her for any injuries. When he saw the jagged scar tissue on her right temple he sucked against his teeth and out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw the glimmer of tears in his wide eyes.

"_Jack? _Fucking christ, Jack is that you? They told me.. they told me you were dead." he pushed her at arms length so he could get a good look at her face.

She scrunched her nose and dropped her hands from his wrists, wrapping her arms around her chest instead. "Is that my name? You know me?" she whispered it so softly, that he thought he had misheard her.

"Is that your name? Yeah that's your name, what else would it be? What are you going on about? Why won't you look at me? _Where have you been?!_" His grip on her face tightened and she winced, wrapping her arms tighter around herself.

Sunny grabbed his shoulder firmly and fixed him with a cold stare. "Ringo let her go, she doesn't remember anything before she was shot in the head a month ago. You obviously know her, since you seemed to recognize her so quickly, but she was in critical condition until about a week ago. She's been unconscious in Doc Mitchell's house this whole time. Now why don't you let her go so we can talk about this like civilized adults?"

He let go of her face as if she had burned him with acid and scrubbed his face with his hands. Pacing back and forth in front of them.

Jack, that seemed to be her name, lifted her right hand to touch where his hands had been on her face. She felt that uncomfortable tingling feeling at the pit of her stomach again and cleared her throat to speak. "I feel like I should know you, and I can't really explain why or how I feel that way. I need answers, and you seem like the perfect person to give me those answers." his head shot up and he pinned her with a gaze she couldn't quite read for a moment before he exhaled slowly and nodded. "Yeah... yeah I guess you deserve to know who you are. What do you want to know?"

She unwrapped her arms around herself and clenched her hands at her sides, questions flooding her head so fast that she felt light headed. "How long have you known me? What's my full name? Do you know my family? Are they alive or dead? Who are you to me? How did I-" he raised his hand and a ghost of a smile spread across his face. "You were always inquisitive. I'll tell you what I know and you just stop me if it gets too overwhelming, alright?" she nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Your name is Jacqueline Delacroix, you're 28 years old and before you quit to become a courier, you were working as a caravan guard for the Crimson Caravan company. I've known you for about ten years now, we first met when you were eighteen and I was twenty two on a job that took us all the way to DC. You saved my life from a Fiends raid and we became.. friends after that. You told me you had signed up with the Crimson Caravan when you were sixteen and have been estranged from your family since then. I don't know how it is you became a courier, but you handed in your resignation to Alice- our.. my boss, about five years ago. We were.. close, and we remained close, writing letters to each other and occasionally meeting up in New Vegas until your letters and visits stopped about a year ago. The Mojave Express notified me of your death a month and a half ago since you listed me as your next of kin. I don't know where you've been or how you've fared in over a year." He dropped his hand to the side and hug his head, as if embarrassed that he knew so much about her life where she knew nothing.

All of this information was running through her head all at once and they were making her dizzy, she drew in a shuddering breath and ran outside before she threw up. She slid down to sit with her back pressed up against the wall and tucked her head between her knees, her hands pressed against the sides of her head while she sobbed quietly.

_I'm somebody, I have a name. I have a family. He _knows _me. But i can't even remember him! He's known me for ten years and I couldn't even remember his face! _

It was too much information, she just didn't know how to comprehend it. When she felt his hand on her shoulder she visibly recoiled away from him and he snatched it back.

"I know this is a lot to take in all at once," he murmered, and she could feel him sliding down to sit next to her. "I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through right now... but I want to help you, I want to help you remember. I want to help you do whatever it is you're going to do. I.. jack I _can't _lose you again. Let me help you..." he trailed off there and dropped his hands to his lap.

She rubbed her face with her hands and wiped her nose with her arm. She wasn't even sure what she was supposed to do, all she had to go on was a man with a checkered coat and a platinum chip. Logically she knew she would need as much help as she could get, but she just didn't feel comfortable asking him to do that for her. She sighed heavily and turned to look at him, quite positive she looked as horrible as she felt.

"I can't ask you to do that for me, I'll help you with this Joe Cobb thing, and I'll help you get back to New Vegas. But beyond that I don't expect anything else from you."


End file.
